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The servants who worked in the royal palace were trained to handle almost any situation. They could cook, clean, perform, deliver messages, tend to the needs of visiting nobles, and even dispose of the remnants of broken wine jugs as quickly as though they had never been there -- a task that became more frequently required when King Laurent decided to start wearing chitons -- among other things.
However, the servants who worked in the royal palace were not trained to handle this.
“Where did you find him?” whispered a servant girl, as she and the rest of the servants hovered around the sleeping infant which had been placed in the centre of their kitchen table.
“On the palace steps,” replied the boy who had brought the child in.
“Why would someone just leave their baby on the palace steps?” wondered another boy.
An older woman, one of the senior cooks, clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “You shouldn’t have brought him here. A palace is no place for an orphan.”
“King Laurent and King Damianos are both orphans,” the girl pointed out.
The cook glared at her. “That is different. They are kings.”
“What shall we do with him?” an older man, a groundskeeper, cut in. “We can’t very well keep him here.”
“We most definitely cannot,” said the cook firmly. She turned to the boy who had found him. “You take him back and leave him there.”
The boy gaped at her. “I can’t do that.”
“You can and you will.”
“I shall take him to the kings instead, and have them decide what will be done with him.”
“You are out of your mind, boy. Do as I say.”
“No, I won’t.”
“Excuse me?”
Instead of responding, the boy scooped the child into his arms and headed for the stairs that led up into the palace, ignoring the protests of the cook behind him.
* * *
The door to the library creaked and both kings started at the noise. A servant boy carrying a cloth bundle stepped into the room, bowing low before the door had even closed behind him.
“Your Highnesses,” he breathed, without looking up.
Laurent stood from the desk, and Damen followed. “Yes?” he prompted gently, not wanting to make the boy any more nervous than he already appeared to be.
“I…” The boy shifted his feet and stared down at the bundle in his arms. “I found this child, Your Highness, on the palace steps, and I… I thought…”
“A child?” Damen was muttering, but Laurent was already stepping forward, taking the bundle from the boy and peering at it; it was, in fact, a child, a beautiful baby with dark brown hair and shining green eyes. Its skin was darker than Laurent’s, but lighter than Damen’s -- Laurent could not determine from which country it came.
“Does this child have a name?” Laurent asked the servant boy.
“If he does, I do not know it, Your Highness,” came the boy’s reply.
“Do you know anything about him at all?”
“No, Your Highness.”
Laurent considered the baby, and the baby beamed at him. He became aware of Damen's presence beside him.
“Damen, look,” he said breathlessly. “Look at him. Isn't he perfect?”
“He is,” Damen agreed.
Laurent glanced up at the servant boy who was still bowing, awaiting instruction. “If no one comes for him in three days, we will keep him,” Laurent told the boy. “In the meantime, go and tell the other servants about our new prince.”
The boy bowed lower and hurried from the room.
“Laurent...” Damen started once he was gone.
Laurent rounded on him. “Were we not discussing the issue of an heir just last week? Is this not the solution to our problem?”
Damen pursed his lips. “The Veretian courts would not approve.”
“We do not need their approval. We are kings.”
At first, Damen said nothing. Then he began to nod, slowly, a smile spreading across his face. “I… yes. You're right, as always.”
Laurent's eyes twinkled. “We can keep him?”
“I don't see why not.” Damen leaned over to get a closer look at the child. “He is rather cute, isn't he? Is he Akielon or Veretian?”
“I don't know. Maybe both.”
“This seems almost too good to be true.”
“Yes,” said Laurent, “it does.”
* * *
“I -- with all due respect, Exalted, are you out of your mind?” Nikandros hissed at Damen later that evening, concern and disbelief written all over his face.
Damen had invited Nikandros and Makedon to dinner to discuss the new prince. Laurent had invited Vannes. She seemed to be having the same thoughts as Nikandros.
“I assure you, the king is quite sane,” Laurent said calmly. “Keeping the boy was my idea. Damen just happened to be of the same mind.”
Nikandros narrowed his eyes. “So you manipulated him.”
“Nikandros,” Damen warned.
“Did I?” Laurent asked, all innocence. “If I had done that, I'm sure I would have known. I never manipulate anyone by accident.”
Nikandros opened his mouth, but Makedon spoke before he could say anything. “I think it's a great idea. The kings need an heir, and now they've got one.” He took a swig of his wine. “Who cares where he came from? He's here now.”
“What is the child's name?” Vannes asked.
“We have yet to decide,” came Laurent's reply.
Makedon set down his cup and called for a servant to bring him more wine. “My son Elansyus is six months old now,” he said. “Perhaps he and the prince can be friends.”
“Perhaps,” said Laurent.
“I still can't believe you are doing this, Damianos,” Nikandros muttered.
“Neither can I, friend,” Damen told him, smiling softly. “But how else would I have a child? Laurent and I cannot have one of our own. I think this boy is a blessing.”
Nikandros’ jaw worked, but he said nothing.
Laurent waved over one of the servants. “Bring the prince to me,” he told her. “I think it would do Nikandros good to see him.”
The servant girl was back before Makedon had even finished his next cup of wine. She handed the baby to Laurent, who stood and walked over to Nikandros.
“Here,” said Laurent.
There was silence as Nikandros stared down at the child. The prince made a soft noise of curiosity and Nikandros’ expression melted into one of obvious affection.
“He is…” breathed Nikandros, “...beautiful.”
“Yes,” Laurent said. “Is he not fit to be a prince?”
“He is.” Nikandros’ voice was filled with wonder.
Laurent nodded and held the child close to his chest. “I'm glad you agree.”
* * *
“So,” Damen began, lifting the covers and crawling into bed beside Laurent. “What shall we name our son?”
“I was thinking ‘Lucien’,” Laurent said confidently.
Damen propped his head up on his hand and gazed down at his husband. “That sounds awfully Veretian.”
“Yes, that’s the point.”
"How about something more Akielon? Like… Lukas.”
Laurent shrugged. “You may call him Lukas if you wish. I will call him Lucien.”
“That will confuse him.”
“Then he will be confused. I shall call him Lucien.”
Damen sighed exasperatedly and leaned over to press a gentle kiss against Laurent's lips. When he pulled back, Laurent's eyes remained closed.
“My love, are you happy?” Damen asked quietly.
Laurent's eyelashes fluttered, and Damen found himself staring into striking blue eyes. “Yes,” Laurent said simply.
In the darkness, Damen pulled Laurent to him and pressed a kiss into his hair. “Then so am I.”
* * *